


The Hunger Games

by ixsmellxapples



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamione Cult Ilvermorny Cup, Discord: Bellamione Coven, Discord: Bellamione Cult, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, The title isn't very creative, Tribute!Hermione, Victor!Bellatrix, also expect the same violence you'd expect in hunger games, basically this is a mash up from Hunger Games and Catching Fire, bellamoine - Freeform, pretty much just rated for Bella's foul mouth for now, so they reap as normal while the other Districts send victors, so... this just wouldn't leave me alone, there is a Quarter Quell but Distrct 12 doesn't have Victors to be chosen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-08-19 22:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20217622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixsmellxapples/pseuds/ixsmellxapples
Summary: This just wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. This Quarter Quell was supposed to consist of previous Victors. There wasn't supposed to be a Reaping. But District 12 didn't have a female Victor. It barely had a male one. There was just Haymitch. A useless drunk. Who was also tasked with mentoring the unlucky tributes that were chosen to enter this year's Games.District 12 - one of the poorest in the country - was always at a disadvantage anyways. There was neither money nor time to train and prepare for potentially joining the Hunger Games. While District 1 and 2 almost always had Careers volunteering. Vicious and deadly.But this year there would be no volunteers. Not even District 1 and 2 winners wanted to join the Games again. Beating the odds once was more than enough, even for them.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't betaed. All mistakes are my own and English isn't my first language in case you're wondering. But please do enjoy :)

This just wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. This Quarter Quell was supposed to consist of previous Victors. There wasn't supposed to be a Reaping. But District 12 didn't have a female Victor. It barely had a male one. There was just Haymitch. A useless drunk. Who was also tasked with mentoring the unlucky tributes that were chosen to enter this year's Games.

District 12 - one of the poorest in the country - was always at a disadvantage anyways. There was neither money nor time to train and prepare for potentially joining the Hunger Games. While District 1 and 2 almost always had Careers volunteering. Vicious and deadly.

But this year there would be no volunteers. Not even District 1 and 2 winners wanted to join the Games _ again _. Beating the odds once was more than enough, even for them.

But then there was District 12. Just one male winner. So there had to be a Reaping for the general population. Someone had to be chosen at random. Someone who was going to face absolutely certain death. In their kindness the Capitol had decided to reap the male tribute from the usual crowd as well, so Haymitch could be available as a mentor. Not that that was going to help anyone much.

Hermione suspected it had more to do with the fact that the Capitol thought it might rile up the residents of District 12 if their one and only champion got killed off. No matter how fucked up with PTSD and alcohol Haymitch was these days, he was still proof that someone from District 12 could win the Games. And as horrible as it sounded, the people of District 12 were used to losing two kids from the community every year. It always happened. So this reaping was just like any other for them. Their tributes would be doomed just like every other year. And their priced Victor would remain alive. 

Hermione stood grouped with the other female teenagers in the town square of Hall of Justice. Dressed up in her Sunday outfit which was saved for special occasions. Which almost always was the Reaping. This was her last year. She was 18 now and next year she would be too old to be a tribute. She would have made it. But now her name was in the pot seven times. Plus the times they had needed food rations so badly that she had added it extra. She didn’t dare to add up the full amount. 

The atmosphere in the town square was thick. Parents afraid for their children. Children afraid to be chosen for slaughter. Their lives all in the hands of the Capitol escort Effie Trinket. She was the one who was going to draw their names from the glass bowls. Dressed in pink and with a big hair wig she looked as out of place as anyone could in District 12. 

“Lady’s first,” the escort announced as if this was an honor. As if anyone here was going to _ want _ this. Effie reached into the bowl and pushed her fingers past several name cards and grabbed one from the bottom. It simply took a second but time stretched for Hermione as if it had taken Effie hours to read the name out loud. 

“Hermione Granger.”

The relief that flooded the square was palpable. There were a few gasps, sure. But mostly parents were glad that their kids would live to see another Reaping. And the girls felt relieved that it wasn’t their name being called. 

Various heads spun around to look at Hermione who just stood frozen amongst them. Shocked. Scared. _ Furious. _

“Hermione Granger,” Effie repeated her name. “There you are, dear! Come on up!” 

How cheerful that woman sounded should have been a crime in itself. And it only infuriated Hermione that much more. Someone behind her gently gave her a push which was enough to send her into motion towards the stage. She knew where her parents were standing. She could hear her mother cry in the silence that followed the announcement. But she couldn’t bring herself to look at them. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to make a satisfying scene for the Capitol. 

Effie was shaking her hand in congratulations but Hermione just felt numb now. Her ears were ringing. There was another tribute chosen. She didn’t even hear the name of the boy that would join her. Not that it mattered. Their chances would barely improve when teaming up. And even then they would have to kill each other in order to win the Games. Making friends wasn’t exactly high on Hermione’s priority list right now. So she just glanced at him when he joined her on stage. She had seen him before. But Hermione couldn’t even remember his name. But he was tall and looked pretty strong. His chances were already better than hers.

Hermione’s gaze wandered back to Effie Trinket. Who sounded so cheerful that one could assume that they had just won the lottery. But from up close it all looked fake. Just like her big hair on top of her head. 

The train head towards the Capitol would be leaving soon and there wasn’t much time for Hermione to say goodbye to her family. And it was probably better that way too. Her mother was absolutely devastated. A sobbing mess. And even her father was close to tears when he was always so composed and reserved. 

It was hard for Hermione to see them that way. It made leaving that much harder. Her mother kept mumbling that this wasn’t fair and that she wasn’t going to let her daughter go. And Hermione kept trying to tell them that she would come back. That she would win and she would come back home. None of them believed her promises but in that moment they helped anyways. 

Her best friend Luna was there too. Quiet and quirky but steadfast and loyal. They had grown up together, were the same age. At least Hermione left District 12 knowing that at least one of them had made it. Luna would be 19 next year. And her name would be removed from the glass bowl. Luna was save. And Luna promised to look after Hermione’s parents. After their few exchanged words the friends just hugged. Hermione clinging to her until the Peacekeepers pretty much dragged her off, forcing her towards the train station. 

Apparently it was time to leave.

After anger, grief and a complete turmoil of emotions Hermione felt composed again. Numb. It was as if her brain had shut down. It was probably self preservation, but Hermione didn’t have the energy to really dwell on the how or why. She was just relieved that she had stopped crying for now. 

When they boarded the train Hermione wanted nothing more than to flee to her private quarters, but apparently she would have no such luck. Effie insisted on proper introductions. 

“So, I’m sure we will be having a grand time,” Effie began and Haymitch just snorted. Hermione had never liked him much but she couldn’t help but agree. This was absolutely ridiculous. But the escort just ignored him. “I’m Effie. And I’ll help you find your way around the Capitol. Things there will be very much different from the world you know. You’ll be so impressed!” 

“Right…” Hermione mumbled and rolled her eyes. “I just want to sleep.” And possibly curl up in a corner and cry. 

“But there is going to be food!” Effie protested. “And we all have to get to know each other better.”

“Food sounds good,” the male tribute spoke for the first time. Hermione still didn’t know his name. She had blacked out to her surroundings after being chosen. But the redhead was already annoying. 

“I’m going,” Hermione announced and stood up. This was pointless.

“But the food!” Effie protested again. “And Ronald here is staying for some dinner too.”

Hermione just shook her head and stormed off. She wasn’t going to get stuffed like a turkey about to be slaughtered. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

District 1 wasn’t used to having a normal Reaping ceremony. There were always Careers volunteering. They were always eager to get the fame and prestige a win would mean. The mood was one of excitement instead of paralyzing fear. 

But this year was different. A Quarter Quell just consisting of Victors. The audacity! It was the most ridiculous thing! They had been promised a life of riches and fame. What no one had even told the Careers though was what came after winning. Yes, there were riches. And there was fame. But there was also the PTSD, the lack of friends. The being paraded around the Capitol part where even richer people wanted to buy your body.

Bellatrix was ripped from her thoughts when her name was called and the crowd erupted into cheers. But not because they were cheering her on, oh no. Bellatrix knew better than that. They were happy that their other beloved female Victors weren’t send back into the arena. They were happy that the one winner who everyone hated would be sent back. Bellatrix knew how to provide a show. Blood thirsty assholes, all of them. She could give them that. Yes. But if she died then they wouldn’t care either. She had never agreed to their games and rules. She hadn’t sold her body to a rich Capitol asshole to gain even more money and favors for her District. She had even attacked Rodolphus Lestrange who had tried to force her into his bed. She had almost bitten off his ear and ever since then had been shunned from most events in the Capitol. 

Bellatrix had done it before. And she would do it again. She would win these god forsaken Games again. Just out of spite. With her head held high and a manic smirk on her features Bellatrix walked up the stage. She found her sisters in the crowd. They were the only people who looked horrified. They were also the only people who mattered in Bellatrix’ eyes. After all, she had become a Career so her two baby sisters wouldn’t have to. They had been able to lead a sheltered life. Without a worry in the world. They had both gotten married. Either had a child. Bellatrix had sacrificed it all for them. It had been worth it. But she hadn’t been prepared to have to do it all _ again. _

“You’re all going to fucking regret this!” she yelled from her spot on the stage and was immediately grabbed by five peacekeepers. It was excessive but they knew that when it came to Bellatrix Black that they couldn’t be careful enough. She had just enough crazy inside her to make anything possible. After all she had killed someone with a pebble during her Games. 

Making her go back into an arena to kill others. It was nothing she had planned to ever do again. People had always thought she had enjoyed the killing. After all she had been a Career. She knew what she had been preparing for all her life, right? And the killing had been easy. During the Games she had just functioned. She needed to survive. There were no friends. And the whip they had provided for her at the cornucopia had done the rest. The whip had always been her most favorite weapon. 

But after killing so many young lives? Returning to a normal life was difficult. And Bella had been so angry. With everyone and everything. Much like she was right now. Capitol had called her unhinged and unpredictable. And she was. She would show them. 

Thanks to her little outburst she wasn’t allowed to say goodbye to her sisters. It wouldn’t have done anyone any good anyways. They had said what needed to be said the day before, preparing for the worst. 

Now Bellatrix was on the train to the Capitol. A second time in her life. And she was ready to kill.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... meeting is still difficult for them at this point BUT I TRIED ok. I did my best to show some interaction. I mean, I figure that's why people are here in the first place. :P Have fun with this one and thanks everyone for the comments! Much appreciated. <3

The train ride to the Capitol had taken a few days. During the time Hermione hadn’t really warmed up to anyone. She attended their meals but small talk was difficult for her. Effie did most of the talking the entire time. Not that anyone really listened. 

Haymitch was an asshole. And he was even worse when he was drunk. Which he was more often than not. He refused to talk about anything useful too. The most helpful think he had told her was to stay alive. 

She mostly stayed away from Ronald. There was nothing gained from him presence. Not even comfort. He was a little bit of home but they would be enemies soon enough. 

But despite all that they had settled into a routine and leaving the train again was a scary thought. 

They got hauled away quickly and were separated too. Effie has mentioned that they would be styled but Hermione had not been prepared for  _ this _ . She was surrounded by various people, one more extravagant than the other, and all were saying things like that her obsolete hair needed to go and that her eyebrows needed trimming. And apparently they considered her fairly filthy still because they stripped her naked and all but hosed her down. If Hermione hadn’t felt as if she was about to be slaughtered she sure would be feeling like it now. 

Hermione’s skin felt as if it was on fire when they ripped out the hair on her legs, arms and worst of all, arm pits. They even worked on her hair until pretty much all of her wild curls were gone and it was a manageable wavy hairstyle. At least they left it long. Once they were done the only hair left on her body was located on her head. Apparently the Capitol really disliked hair. 

Feeling out of control and violated Hermione sat curled up on the gurney. She could hear that she wasn’t alone. Similar things were being done to others, other tributes. There was no commotion, no resistance. They knew there was no point. 

That was until Bellatrix Black arrived. “Don’t you fucking dare touch me!” She screeched when her team of stylists approached her. “Don’t you fucking touch me!” 

Curious Hermione got up and peeked around a folding screen which had been obstructing her view. She had seen Bellatrix before. Briefly. She had been made an example of as a very unfortunate Victor. She was shunned. And occasionally shown in recaps of Games. Bellatrix had had many highlights. Impressive fighter. Smart, too. But also crazy and unhinged. And apparently broken, Hermione figured. Apparently Bellatrix wasn’t yelling just to be annoying. She appeared truly panicked. Any touch from strangers enough to send her running. Being strapped to the gurney only made it that much worse. 

Their gazes met briefly and Hermione wanted to help. But there was simply no way. Nothing to do. So the girl returned to the gurney. 

“There’s nothing you can do for her.”

The voice startled her. She hadn’t heard the man approaching. But the voice seemed kind and he looked. A whole lot less colorful and extravagant than all the others. 

“I’m Cinna. I’m going to dress you for the Games.” He gave her a kind smile and Hermione nodded. But focusing on him was difficult with Bellatrix screaming close by. 

As it turned out, Cinna so far was the most likeable person Hermione had encountered during this trip to hell. Despite being from the Capitol is appearance was a whole lot less shrill and outlandish. Even the golden eyeliner didn’t take away from that. He had promised to dress her in something that she’d be comfortable with for the parade. She would turn heads and she would be intimidating. It all sounded good enough for now. If one could talk about good in her current situation. There weren’t many people she could trust, but she ended up trusting Cinna. 

\--- --- --- ---

Hermione was feeling quite badass, for lack of a better word. She was dressed in all black. It’s a black unitard with a cape and a matching headdress. It’s customary that the outfits for the ceremony match the respective Districts. The theme for District 12 would be coal and mining and Hermione figured that Cinna had truly done the best he could. Usually the tributes ended up looking ridiculous, but Hermione felt confident. 

Feeling like she hadn’t slept in several days already all Hermione wanted was to go to bed at their hotel. But it would have to wait. The Capitol wanted the parade of their tributes as soon as possible so after getting makeup done Hermione was ushered towards the stables. 

Ronald was already there, dressed in a matching black outfit but decidedly less makeup. He too looked good, Hermione figured. But she still didn’t care much for him. And yet they would have to get into that chariot together to be paraded around. When Ronald saw her he stared a few seconds longer than he should have but barely gave her a nod in acknowledgement. 

Too distracted by her surrounding Hermione forgot to acknowledge him in return. She looked at the other tributes. Some truly looked quite ridiculous and flamboyant. Just what the Capitol liked but seemed pointless to al the other Districts. Especially the poorest ones. Her eyes fell on the woman again who had screamed at and fought her stylists. Apparently at some point she  _ had  _ given in. Her hair fell in perfect black curls and she was wearing a dark green outfit that seemed to shimmer in the light. While most of the others looked ridiculous, Bellatrix looked utterly stunning. Like an expensive emerald or a green sapphire. Which was fitting for District One. They were providing the Capitol with their jewels and riches, which in turn made District One rich. They had the money to make training for the Games a sport. 

Bellatrix caught her staring and their gazes met for about a second before Hermione’s heart stopped. Bellatrix moved so quickly that Hermione just hadn’t seen it coming. And the taller woman just stopped once she was mere inches away. Needing to tilt her head back slightly Hermione forced herself to meet Bellatrix’ crazy stare. Which felt like the bravest thing she had ever done in her life. At least so far. Bellatrix tilted her head slightly to the side. On anyone else the action would have looked cute and curious. But right now Hermione felt like prey. And her predator was about to strike. 

“I’ll see you in the arena, pet. It’s going to be my absolute pleasure to kill you in the arena,” Bellatrix purred as if she was trying to seduce Hermione. While threatening her with death. All of which was utterly confusing. But Hermione didn’t doubt it for a second. They were barely more than insects to those glorious Victors. Hermione on the other hand didn’t know how to fight, much less kill. A shiver went down Hermione’s spine and she didn’t know how to respond to that. But she was saved by the Peacekeepers, of all things, announcing that it was time to get on their respective Chariots. “Farewell,” Bellatrix purred sweetly again before turning around to head to her Chariot which was at the front. 

With her heart beating faster Hermione did the same and took her place next to Ronald. To her surprise Cinna and another stylist (probably Ronald’s) walk up to them. “It’s not real, it won’t feel hot. But it’ll look real,” Cinna spoke softly. In tandem Cinna and the other stylish light their capes and headdresses on fire. 

Hermione had been impressed with their outfits before but now she couldn’t help but gasp. She literally was on fire. And just as Cinna had promised Hermione didn’t feel a thing. 

The horses neighed impatiently and began to slowly drag the chariot. 

“Hold hands,” Cinna told them pointedly as they rolled past thim. 

Hermione didn’t really know what to make of those instructions, but so far Cinna had not disappointed her. So as they left the stables and entered the City Circle Hermione’s grasped Ronald’s hand. The cheering of the people in the audience was already deafening but when they saw it, it got even louder. The crowd loved it. Whatever they made of the simple gesture of holding hands, they loved it. Which would be good for them in the arena if the Capitol loved them. It would mean sponsors and help when you needed it most. 

As stubborn and rebellious as Hermione had felt and behaved on the journey here she realized now that if she wanted to survive she needed to play along. She needed to be liked,  _ loved _ even. And Cinna had just laid the groundwork for that to happen.

Their chariot made it into the circle. Looking around Hermione could see Riddle sitting up in a loge. She couldn’t see details. He was much too far away for that. But the white suit was unmistakable. She had seen him often enough in mandatory broadcasts in District 12. She stood a little straighter, staring at him in defiance. And although she couldn’t be sure that Riddle was truly looking at her, Hermione thought that he was looking right back. Instincts told her that Hermione should be crawling into a corner and hide. But since that wasn’t an option she simply stared back as a shiver went down her spine. 

With the crowd still roaring the chariots headed back out of the City Circle and towards the Training Center. Haymitch had explained that all the tributes would be staying there until the Games started. Hermione had imagined it to be big. But not this gigantic. Seeing it on screen a couple of times during previous Games had not properly conveyed its size.

“Wicked…” Ronald breathed next to her in the chariot and only now Hermione remembered that she was still holding his hand. She wasn’t sure if cameras were still on them but she figured that it was safe to release it anyways. Her fingers felt stiff when she stretched them from holding on too tightly. It wasn’t exactly the first word that came to Hermione’s mind when looking at the giant building but it was appropriate enough. 

They chariots were stopped and Peacekeepers made sure to keep them all apart. No one wanted bloodshed before the Games actually started. Once inside the arena when everyone could watch though it was totally fine. 

Despite the heavy Peacekeeper presence though Hermione felt unsafe. She felt watched. And it had nothing to do with broadcasting cameras. Letting her gaze wander she spotted Bellatrix staring intently at her. Whatever obsession Bellatrix had with her, it would end badly for Hermione. The older woman was grinning wickedly and still managed to look breathtaking. She mouthed a few words but Hermione wasn’t sure what they were. It might have been  _ See you soon _ but that was such a terrifying thought that Hermione chose to ignore that.

Instead they dutifully followed their Peacekeepers inside where they met with Haymitch and Effie. The escort was gushing over their triumph and that the people were going to love it! They headed to an elevator. “We all got our own floors,” Effie explained. “You know, avoid the confrontation with the other Districts until it’s time.” Her Capitol accent set Hermione on edge. What a waste all of this was. An entire floor for a handful of people. Her entire town in District 12 could have probably lived on one floor alone. “District 12 is on one of the higher floors and-” The elevator doors opened and revealed none other than Bellatrix. Which was enough to even silence Effie. 

“Lousy security,” she announced with the widest grin and as she walked into the elevator actually began to strip out of her outfit. “My stylist once again made an awful choice,” she complained just when she dropped her dress and revealed that she was completely naked underneath. Her outfit had been amazing. But she clearly just wanted to make a show. And it worked. Perfectly. Ron was pretending not to stare but was staring, while Haymitch was downright drooling. Effie simply looked  _ horrified _ . And Hermione felt all of these emotions at once. There was heat spreading on her lower abdomen all throughout her body and her cheeks were burning. 

While Bellatrix simply looked smug.

When the elevator doors opened again Bellatrix said, “this is my stop.” She sounded almost cheerful as she stepped out and left the rest of them behind.

“Did that just happen?” Ronald asked while Haymitched whistled. Despite her utterly confused state Hermione rolled her eyes at them. When the elevator stopped again it announced their floor and everyone immediately left the elevator which suddenly felt too small. Hermione stayed behind, eyeing the dress still lying around on the floor. Bending down quickly she picked it up. She didn’t know why. She told herself that it would be a waste to just leave it lying there, but it was more than that. 

“You comin’, sunshine?” Haymitch asked and Hermione hid the dress quickly behind her back. 

“Yeah, yeah… right behind you,” she replied and followed quickly but making sure to walk last in line. None of the others needed to see that she had picked up the dress. She still didn’t even know why she had done it. 

There was so much wasted space that Hermione wanted to scream. But instead she retreated into her own quarters. Her own bedroom. Her own bathroom. In her hole they barely had running water. 

Her room felt too cold. There was no wood. No sunlight. Everything looked fancy, yes. But nothing felt like home. Playing around with the device on her nightstand the walls of her room began to change. She had had some time on the train to get used to the fancy things the Capitol used and took for granted. But when the walls changed into a few of the countryside Hermione couldn’t help but gasp. Pressing the same buttons again the view changed to a beach and the ocean. Again, and it changed to lush green woods. Tears immediately sprung to her eyes. It reminded her so much of her home in District 12. 

For a moment Hermione just looked at the woods, the trees slowly swaying in the breeze. Despite feeling emotional and terribly missing home the view was also calming. Maybe she could get some sleep like this. A few hours of blissful unawareness. 

Just as she was Hermione crawled into bed and curled up under the covers. 

She knew that the others were probably having dinner and pretending that this had a resemblance of normalcy. But Hermione just couldn’t do it. She was doomed. She had a few skills which would be useful in the arena, but she had no idea how to fight. Not in the slightest. And all her little skills would be absolutely useless against 22 other Victors. Maybe she would have a chance under normal circumstances. But like this? She was doomed. Ronald, too. But Hermione didn’t care about him. Burying her face in her soft pillow Hermione sobbed into it. She allowed herself to cry for a few minutes and then forced them away. Her pillow was soaked anyways. 

Stubbornly Hermione wiped her tears before closing her eyes and forcing herself to sleep.

\--- --- --- ---

As annoying and inconvenient as all of this was Bellatrix was grinning as she entered her quarters, still very much naked. Settling down into one of the huge and cushioned chairs Bellatrix felt pretty smug about what she had just accomplished. 

Just because she was partaking in yet one more Games didn’t mean that Hermione couldn’t play a Game of her own.

That girl from District 12. Her escort had told her very little about her. She had hardly been deemed a priority on the list of dangers. After all, the girl was a half starved child and nothing more. Too innocent and soft. Beautiful though. She had noticed it when she caught the girl staring at her during their preparations. Despite being upset and angry Bellatrix hadn’t been  _ that  _ far gone. Of course she noticed when she was being watched. That was how she had survived her first Games after all. 

But even though that girl wasn’t important Bellatrix had been curious. Pushing her buttons and riling her up. Just to see what would happen when she played her little mind games. Reaching out Bellatrix grabbed a knife from the table and began to play around with it. What she hadn’t expected though was for the girl to steal the show. It wasn’t so much the girl’s fault as it was her stylist’s fault, but that didn’t really matter. In the end, Hermione had stolen the show and as a result stolen sponsors. Not that Bellatrix had expected to gain a lot of those in the first place. But being the most intriguing person in the City Circle sure would have helped. Now she didn’t even have that. 

Absentmindedly Bellatrix traced the tip of her knife along the tips of her fingers. She made sure not to break skin, but the cold sharp metal was soothing. She was imagining doing the same to the girl’s pretty neck, perhaps even cut it. In the arena she would have to get rid of the competition. Someone would have to kill the girl. It felt only right that the one would be herself. 

Bellatrix stabbed her knife into the table before getting up. Still entirely naked Bellatrix headed towards her bedroom. Maybe she’d carve a word into the girl’s forehead too. It had been her signature after killing her victim’s in the arena. Although it would be a shame to ruin such a pretty face. She settled down on top of her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her thoughts wandered to less violent memories, which mostly consisted of her sisters. Bellatrix needed to remind herself of why she would be doing all this again. She wasn’t supposed to have a knife, but Bellatrix had her ways. So killing herself on her own terms would be so easy. No one would be here in time to save her and patch her back up in time for the Games. It was a tempting thought. To just give them a big middle finger for making her do this again. But Bellatrix was no fool. They would simply choose another Victor.  _ Or _ , to make matters worse, demand her family to make the sacrifice anyways and force one of her sisters into the arena. And neither was prepared for anything like this. Narcissa was cunning and a strategist, but had never fought for her life. Andromeda was no less smart and loyal to a fault, but too kind to survive the arena. And Bellatrix wouldn’t have it any other way. 

No.

She couldn’t back out of this. She had to enter the arena. And she had to win. Which meant that she most likely had to kill again. She was good at it, too. That wasn’t the problem. It was almost instinctual during her first Games. It had been so easy. Readjusting to her normal life was what had been difficult. Quite honestly, Bellatrix had never entirely succeeded. And she was scared of what the second Games would shape her into. But it was for her sisters. And it would be worth it, no matter the price. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clears throat* so, erm.... have some more.

Hermione got out of bed at an ungodly hour. She had barely slept at all and the few hours she managed had been filled with nightmares of either being killed or doing the killing. And she wasn’t sure which had made her feel worse upon waking up. In the one dream she still remembered most vividly Hermione had been chased through the woods by a crazed and screaming Bellatrix. A dream like that wasn’t very surprising after her all rather unpleasant encounters with the older woman, but that didn’t make them any less scary and unsettling. 

Hoping to wash away the remnants of her nightmares Hermione walked barefoot into her adjacent bathroom. She still couldn’t believe the luxury these people took for granted as she undressed and stepped into the shower. Not only was it an endless amount of running water, no, it was also  _ hot _ . Not just luke warm, it was hot. It felt too hot at first even, but her skin got used quickly to the pain and instead her muscles began to relax a little while the shower stall steamed up. She had been scrubbed clean the day before already, but at least this time it felt pleasant. She let her curly hair soak thoroughly, the added weight making it look a lot longer. 

After a few minutes of just soaking Hermione took a more curious look at the control panel of the shower and tapped a few buttons. Which in turn added scent to the water.  _ Rose water, _ she thought and quickly changed it. Lavender. That was better. What she settled on though was something a bit more subtle and less noticeable. Strawberry. She had had them only once or twice in her life when she had found wild ones in the forest. 

She showered a whole lot longer than had been necessary. How much water she had just wasted Hermione didn’t want to know. But she didn’t care. When she stepped out of the shower she felt a little bit better than before, so she decided that it had been worth the waste. Stepping in front of the fogged up mirror Hermione wiped it quickly with her hand before putting her wet hair into a braid to have it out of the way. Then she got dressed in the simplest pants and shirts she could find in her closet before heading out into the kitchen area of their floor. Haymitch at least was already awake as well. Or perhaps he had never gone to bed in the first place. They didn’t acknowledge each other which suited Hermione just fine. Settling down into a fluffy armchair Hermione waited for the rest of their group to show. For the first time in days she felt remotely hungry and she hoped that it would stay that way. As much as she hated how her District was starving and here she was getting all the food she wanted and more? Hermione needed her strength in the arena. There she didn’t know when or how often she would even find food. Many had simply died of starvation before in various arenas. Other tributes weren’t always the biggest threat to your life. And Hermione was already skinny enough. She should be using her time here to gain a little more weight. So she would eat the food without feeling guilty. Most likely the food in the Training Center would be the last proper food she was ever going to get. 

The next one to join them was Ronald. He greeted her but Hermione ignored him. She was still determined not to get attached or to even get to know him better. She was sure he wasn’t the worst guy around but she needed to be capable of killing him soon enough. At least in theory. Not that Hermione knew how to kill anything. 

“You’re just as bad as him!” Ronald spat in her direction after he settled down as well.

Looking up Hermione met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said good morning. The least thing you could do is say something in return!” Ronald explained and only seemed more furious when Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“It’s nothing personal,” she replied. Although the more he spoke the less she liked him. “But what’s the point in pretending that we don’t have to kill each other soon?”

“We are teammates,” Ron grumbled and actually crossed his arms in front of his chest like a child. “And up against Victors! We should be working together!”

“Only one can win, Ronald. One. Teammate or not. If, by some grand miracle, we are the only ones left alive? We’d still have to kill each other. And I won’t be killing a friend.” Hermione did her absolute best to keep her voice calm and collected. But his whining was already giving her a headache. 

“We are going against Victors! We will need an alliance between us if we want to stand any chance at all!” he tried to convince her.

“Ronald, if I want to have any chance at survival then yes: I do need an alliance. But not with you. I’d need an alliance with Victors. Which would actually be helpful for me.” She had thought about it. The only problem was that Hermione didn’t know what she would be able to provide in such an alliance. Or how to avoid getting killed by whoever Victor worked together with her until it didn’t suit them anymore. 

“No one would want an alliance with you,” Ronald huffed.

She knew that. But that didn’t mean she had to just take that insult. “You do,” she smirked a little and realized that Haymitch was sporting one as well. 

“At least one of you has brains,” Haymitch spoke for the first time, his words only slightly slurred. So at least he wasn’t piss drunk. “An alliance is unlikely for either of you. But until we know more about your skills I’d say that an alliance between the two of you would only have disadvantages. One human is a lot harder to find than two. Yes, two are stronger in a fight, but it’s pointless when neither of you can fight.”

“Wow, what a pep talk,” Ron complained.

“How about you teach us some fighting then instead?” Hermione demanded instead. “You’re supposed to be our mentor. So how about you get your ass up and start? You’re supposed to want us alive.”

“That attitude won’t earn you any sponsors, Granger. And you’ll need them. They can save your life. 12 won’t be of much help. You’ll need to endear the Capitol people. And since it won’t be with fighting actions? You’ll need to be nice.  _ Sweet _ even. You need to endear them. Make them feel sorry for you. You’re just a girl up against seasoned killers. That’ll be your card to play. And, girl, you  _ will _ have to play it if you want to survive the first day. And you need to be good. Capitol people are numbed by the Games happening every year. It’s just a spectacle to them. Tributes are barely human to them. So actually moving them into emotions? That’s going to be difficult.”

Hermione listened and absorbed the words. As much of a useless drunk as Haymitch was, his words rang true. There could be no denying it. The richer Districts were sometimes able to help their own tributes. Especially the Career Districts had the money to sponsor. But 12? There was just no way. And the other Districts wouldn’t help her. They had no reason to. She had only the Capitol people to count on for help. “Fuck…” she breathed and Haymitch snorted, but Hermione ignored it. 

It wasn’t that playing a damsel in distress would be difficult in the arena. She would be a damsel in distress 24/7. But that didn’t mean that Hermione liked the idea of being kept alive by the Capitol audience and their pity. But it appeared that that was her only choice. Unless a miracle happened.

“Good morning!” Effie piped happily as she joined them in the kitchen. Considering she was perfectly styled and in full make up Effie too must have gotten up very early for her to be ready already. “How did you like your beds? I hope they were as perfect and soft as mine!”

None of them even remotely looked rested. But Effie has a talent for ignoring reality. Or so it seemed at least. “No,” Hermione simply said which seemed to offend Effie. “Barely slept.”

“Well, you could have at least tried!” The escort huffed and Hermione just stared at her pointedly. 

“Right. Didn’t think of that. Thank you so much, Effie,” Hermione replied sarcastically with an eye roll. 

Effie clicked her tongue. “Well, good luck finding sponsors with that behavior, Hermione,” she told the girl. “I just want you to be prepared for the Games. I am your escort, I  _ do _ want you to succeed.”

It surprised Hermione how sincere Effie sounded, like she cared. Somehow she had not expected that to be the case after all the makeup and ridiculous colors. “I’m sorry…” she apologized quietly. 

“Forget about it, dear,” Effie sighed. “Anyways, today you get to go down into the training area. This place isn’t called Training Center for nothing. You will be able to hone your skills now until the Games start. You’ll be provided with everything you might want or need if it isn’t already there. There will be interviews, of course. And private lessons if you prefer not to show the other tributes what you can do. But I do advise to make use of the time you can spend training with everyone.”

Hermione and Ronald listened. They had somewhat expected Haymitch to know these things but it became clear that Effie, too, knew she was doing. 

“Effie’s right,” Haymitch agreed gruffly. “As much as I don't want you to show off your best abilities, I do want you to observe what the others are showing you. I’ll be showing you their previous Games. How they fought. How they killed. How they  _ won _ . It’s your one advantage. You’re a wild card. They don’t expect anything at all from you. But you can get to know them. Study them. How they think. I want you to learn everything about them.”

“Problem is… I don’t have any helpful skills,” Hermione pointed out. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Haymitch didn’t miss a beat when replying. “We will find something.”

Even if they did, Hermione knew they only had a week. That wasn’t much time to go against killers. But this entire conversation had at least shown her that maybe Haymitch wasn’t quite as useless as she had thought. And  _ maybe _ Effie wasn’t as awful either. But she hadn’t quite made a final decision on that yet. “How early can we go to the training area?” She asked eventually. 

“Good first,” Effie told her brightly. “But then you may go.”

Since Haymitch didn’t protest she figured that was as good as it got and she began to eat. Even though Hermione’s appetite was limited she had to admit that the food was delicious. So she ended up eating quite a bit before announcing that she was full. 

Once everyone was done Effie scurried off. Which left Haymitch to take them to the elevator. Hermione was nervous. She did want to check out the area. She did want to train as well. But she didn’t even know where to start. Besides, she surely would embarrass herself in front of the other victors. So going there early Hermione hoped that it would still be empty. Or at the very least, almost empty. 

As the elevator doors opened again they revealed a vast hall in front of them. The lights were already on but at this hour relatively empty. Hermione could hear someone in the back but wasn’t able to see them quite yet. She figured that this was as lucky as she would get. Stepping out of the elevator and into the hall Hermione looked around, trying to take everything in. The first thing she saw was the vast selection of various ranged and melee weapons sorted into shelves. Bow. Sword. Knives. Whip. A fucking morning star. Hermione had no clue what to do with most of these so she ignored them and the target range for now. There was a parkour which would require strength and fitness to work your way through. Hermione once again had neither. So that was out as well. A fighting area for one on one combat. Probably non-lethal for the time being. But she didn’t need to fight anyone to know the outcome. There really wasn’t much left for her to do. 

But then she spotted a small area in a corner. A variety of plants were there. And other tools that looked like they were self made. Survival training. Maybe she could work with that. Maybe the given plants here were a hint of what to expect to find in the arena this year. And how she could hide. At this point, hiding and staying away from the other tributes and simply outliving them was all she could attempt to do. It had worked before. But then it had never been an arena filled with bloodthirsty victors. Still, it was her only viable option. Some first aid too, maybe. She had some basic knowledge. In District 12 it was hard if not impossible to get a doctor. You had to treat yourself. So yes, maybe she could get better at that too. It wouldn’t make her dangerous but hopefully a little more durable. Maybe she could learn how to make some traps. Get some food. Water. It at least would give her something to focus on in here. 

Apparently Haymitch had seen her wandering gaze. “You might want to get acquainted with some of these weapons,” he told her. 

Hermione shook her head. “Would probably be time wasted. And they would just make fun of me. Not let me do anything.”

“Private sessions then. We get a few of those,” Haymitch nodded. Hermione probably had a point. Besides, it was good to withhold some abilities from them. And none of the victors would pay mind to her training her survivability. 

“All right, private sessions it is,” Hermione agreed and then wandered off to the corner of survival training. Hopefully it wouldn’t get too crowded here. 

“Gotta come down here with a chaperone, pet?”

The voice is low and Hermione jumped a bit. She had forgotten that she had heard someone already in here. It was Bellatrix Black.

“I asked you a question, pet. But I see I scared you,” Belaltrix grinned while juggling a knife in her left hand. “You don’t need to worry about your life yet. We don’t kill down here. We aren’t allowed.” Bellatrix almost sounded disappointed to Hermione. 

Taking a closer look at the other woman Hermione noticed how tired she looked. As if she hadn’t slept. An almost haunted look in her eyes. But still very definitely aware of everything happening around her. “I suppose we didn’t want to take any chances,” Hermione replied and hated how she could hear her voice break just a little bit. But Bellatrix noticed it immediately. Hermione could tell. But surprisingly Bellatrix didn’t use that information to taunt her further. At least not for the moment. Hermione had no illusions about being off the hook quite so easily. 

“You’re here early…” Bellatrix replied with a grin instead. “Afraid of an audience, maybe?”

Ah, here it was. What she really should be doing was head on towards the survival area. But Hermione was stubborn. And sometimes more impulsive than was good for her. “Same I could be saying about you,” she challenged. 

Everything that happened after the words left her mouth happened so fast. She was suddenly on her back, seeing stars from making a full impact fall. But that wasn’t exactly what worried her. The knife which Bellatrix had been casually juggling was now pressed against her throat. The sharp cold edge just about pressing hard enough to draw blood. “Do I look like I’m afraid of an audience, pet? Like I need  _ training?! _ ” Bellatrix sneered. 

Hermione could hear Haymitch and Ronald, telling Bellatrix to back off. That what she was doing was against the rules. But that was all they could do. If they stepped closer to intervene it would be easy for Bellatrix to slit Hermione’s throat. She wouldn’t even be able to get a scream out. Ever so slightly Hermione shook her head, too afraid to move too much. With Bellatrix pretty much sitting on her chest and pinning her down it was hard to breathe and she was at the verge of panicking. 

“Didn’t think so. Remember your place, pet. And watch your tongue. Or I’ll show you how much skin I can peel off before you die…” Bellatrix purred into Hermione’s ear while leaving a thin cut at the side of her neck. The knife was so sharp Hermione didn’t even feel the cut. “If you know what’s good for you, then you stay away from me…”

Hermione felt the pressure against her throat lesson but Bellatrix didn’t move off of her chest. Helplessly she looked up at the older woman. Up close she could see a scar on her chest. 

“ _ Apologize _ , pet. Really… here I was thinking District 12 still had some manners…” Bellatrix sighed. “Go on.”

“Black, this is  _ enough _ ,” Haymitch told the other victor. By now peacekeepers were aware of the commotion and on their way to interrupt. 

“All she needs to do is apologize,” Bellatrix grinned, as if half a dozen peacekeepers didn’t give her any worry at all. It probably didn’t. 

“Sorry… I’m sorry,” Hermione spoke quickly and almost immediately the weight from her chest lifted and Bellatrix got up, knife tossed away. 

“We were just having a bit of fun!” Bellatrix grinned almost sweetly. “I didn’t touch her. Isn’t that right?” 

Hermione received a pointed look and for some reason the girl found herself nodding. “Yeah…” she managed to get out and draped her hair over her shoulder to hide the cut on her neck. “S-she was just showing me that I need to be more careful.”

Bellatrix grinned even wider when the peacekeepers visibly relaxed. “And I’m sure you’ll remember your lesson, pet.”

Hermione certainly would. Why she hadn’t been able to bite her tongue in the first place she didn’t know. It had been a dumb move. Especially if she wanted to remain under the radar of everyone. But at least she was still alive. And she had learned that questioning Bellatrix’ abilities would potentially mean death. Which was probably true for all the other victors so it didn’t really provide any advantage in the first place. Hermione just wanted to curl up in her bed and cry for a few hours. Even though that basking in self pity wasn’t very productive either. Without another word Hermione hurried off into the survival skill corner. She could hear Bellatrix laughing almost manically behind her but she tried her best to ignore it. And instead began to read up on the healing abilities of herbs and where to find them to take care of the thin cut on her neck which was now beginning to sting. The cut wasn’t deep. Which wasn’t luck, Hermione knew. Bellatrix was simply too skilled for it to be luck. She had meant to give her barely more than a little scratch. Almost as if to mark her. Mark her as prey, maybe. But once the cut was taken care of Hermione tried her absolute best to focus on something other than Bellatrix. 

Over time the training area began to fill up with more and more tributes. For their security Haymitch stuck around even though the presence of a mentor wasn’t really common. At least judging by the lack of mentors for all the other tributes. But perhaps that was more related to everyone else being victors.

As she had predicted no one deemed the survival skills important enough to train for. Everyone else was focusing on combat training with a wide variety of weapons. But that suited Hermione just fine. She worked better in solitude anyways. She now knew plants that could help to stop a bleeding, that could make her feel more awake or drowsy or that could simply be eaten so she wouldn’t starve to death. 

But eventually Hermione needed a break. It wasn’t like her training was as physically exhausting like the sword or bow training was, but her eyes felt tired from all the artificial light and concentration. So instead of reading more about plants and herbs in various parts of the world Hermione sat back to instead watch the others fight and climb. Most of them looked fairly sweaty by now. Even Ronald who tried his best at sword fighting by himself looked ready to collapse. Letting her gaze wander the area Hermione tried to find Bellatrix, but she couldn’t locate her anywhere. Which was curious. Despite the older woman scaring her and insisting that she didn’t need training Hermione had figured that Bellatrix would use all the time she had regardless. She spotted the male District 1 victor though. Gloss. Apparently throwing knives was one of his favored skills too. From what Hermione had witnessed though he wasn’t quite as good at it as Bellatrix was. The District 2 victors Brutus and Enobaria were something else. While Brutus favored a spear, Enobaria favored the sword. Although she didn’t need it. She had won the 62nd Hunger Games. And while Bellatrix killing a tribute with a pebble was fairly famous, Enobaria ripping open another tribute’s throat with her own teeth was notorious. Her teeth were now shaped into fangs, decorated with gold. She was proud of her legacy, or so it would seem at least. These two were the only participants in the 75th Hunger Games that were insisting that they enjoyed the idea of going back into the arena. Which made them the most terrifying opponents in Hermione’s opinion. At least Bellatrix and Gloss made it a point to make it known how much they hated going back to slaughter. But that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t happily kill in order to get back out alive. 

Deciding that she had watched the others practice enough Hermione focused back on the book which she had been reading. She had placed it on the table next to her. But it was gone. She frowned in confusion. Hermione was certain that she had placed it right  _ there. _ Exhaustion was just playing a trick on her, Hermione reasoned. Instead of searching for her book Hermione got up to pick out another useful one, but as she got up she spotted Bellatrix again. She was where she should have been in the first place, throwing knives with Gloss. But there was a smirk gracing her features which hadn’t been there before. Hermione’s eyes narrowed in thought. She wondered if Bellatrix had anything to do with the disappearance of her book, but she couldn’t come up with any reason why the older woman would waste any time on that. Perhaps, just to mock her. It seemed like a good enough reason as any. But then again, Hermione didn’t think that Bellatrix would consider her important enough for any of this. But when their gazes met the dark haired woman seemed to grin even wider. She pointed the knife she had been holding at Hermione, then turned around swiftly and throwing it without even aiming. It pierced the head of the dummy.  _ Message received _ , Hermione thought as a shiver went down her spine. Loud and clear. 

When Haymitch was busy showing Ronald how to handle the sword better while not getting killed by other tributes, Hermione was startled by Bellatrix suddenly standing behind her.

“Don’t you think you’re wasting your time with this, pet?” she quipped and Hermione jumped, even dropping her book. Which in turn caused Bellatrix to chuckle.

“It’s my time to waste,” Hermione replied defiantly as she picked her book back up. The hair on her neck was standing up from having Bellatrix standing so close behind her. She was aware how easily the older woman could kill her. 

“Now, pet, behave. We don’t want a repeat scene from earlier, do we?” Bellatrix asked quietly with a grin. “Besides, I’m just here to chat.”

They both knew that Bellatrix wasn’t just here to chat. She was already playing the Game. Wanted to make sure that her dominance over Hermione was known. Not that the girl needed a reminder. The cut on her throat still stung a little after all. “How can I help you, then?” Hermione asked quietly as she tried to pretend that she was still reading her book and not at all hyper aware of Bellatrix’ body so close behind her.

“I just have a question for you, pet. It would seem that my dress has gone missing. You know, the one that I left behind in the elevator. I’m sure you remember,” Bellatrix went on. She smirked when she saw how Hermione forgot to breathe and her entire body seemed to freeze. “Yes, yes, you do remember. Now, tell me… you wouldn’t happen to have seen it? I don’t think Haymitch and the weasel would have taken it. And your escort was too scandalized to even look at the dress. That… simply… leaves… you, pet,” Bellatrix practically purred the last part. 

“I haven’t seen it,” Hermione lied quickly. But she couldn’t help the squeak that left her throat when Bellatrix traced her fingertips across Hermione’s shoulders. It was embarrassing to say the least, but Bellatrix was intimidating. 

Bellatrix clicked her tongue. “Shame, really,” she announced, her voice making it clear that she didn’t believe a word Hermione was saying. “But if you’re sure… do let me know if you come across it though, yes, pet?” The way Bellatrix gently tugged on one of Hermoine’s curls seemed almost seductive which was utterly confusing to Hermione. 

“Y-Yes, I will,” she stuttered her reply and was rewarded with another gentle tug on her hair as Bellatrix continued to play with it. The warmth spreading in her abdomen she had felt before in the elevator, but Hermione stubbornly ignored it. She wouldn’t fall for this Game. This cat and mouse thing Bellatrix had going on with her. Threatening to kill her one moment and then being nice. And it wasn’t even a convincing nice. She wasn’t fooled into thinking that Bellatrix was anything but dangerous. But apparently her body craved any kind of gentle attention these days. Whether it was real or not. Of course she would never reveal to Bellatrix that she had stashed her dress away in one of her closest. She didn’t even know why. She hadn’t known when taking it and she didn’t know now. 

“That’s a good pet,” Bellatrix piped happily before leaving her alone again.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Although she was sure that she wasn’t off the hook just yet. She had just survived to see another round of Bellatrix’ mind games.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute. I got no excuse.

On day two of the pre Games preparations Hermione continued to practice in the survival skill corner. This time she focused on something she didn’t know much about at all, but would hopefully be useful in any kind of arena as well. Building and setting traps. Hermione knew how to skin animals and prepare them properly. So they indeed would make a potential food source if she could just actually get her hands on one. But just like the day before vital components for building the traps seemed to go missing whenever she was distracted or taking a break. And each and every time Bellatrix looked downright gleeful when Hermione noticed. So eventually Hermione just didn’t take breaks anymore, didn’t leave her traps out of her sight. And she actually managed to finish them now. As furious as she had been about Bellatrix playing these games with her? It had probably been a good thing, Hermione mused. Whether Bellatrix had intended this or not, Hermione had learned that in the arena nothing would be fair. There would be no breaks. And if she wasn’t vigilant at all times then she’d be dead. This realization had most likely not been planned by Bellatrix. It had simply been revenge for taking her dress, Hermione was sure. But she felt a little grateful anyways.

“Come on now, kid,” Haymitch interrupted her thoughts. “You need to get ready. Interviews today, remember? Cinna needs to dress you up.”

Hermione sighed in frustration. She really wasn’t looking forward to these ridiculous interviews with Caesar Flickerman. The public was supposed to get to know their tributes better, find their favorites. Tributes could work on getting sponsors. But it also meant being in public, answering private questions about her life. All while being prepared to die in Games that she didn’t want to participate in. It was a farce, really. Although Hermione had to admit to herself that despite all that Caesar never seemed to try to make anyone look bad. At least from the interviews she had seen happening on TV before. 

Looking around their training area Hermione realized that almost everyone else had already left, including Ronald. Merely the District 9 and 10 victors were still around practicing their skills and Hermione realized that she didn’t even know their names. Not that that was terribly important. She just needed to know how dangerous they were. And so far they weren’t very high on her ‘most likely to kill me on my first day in the arena’ list. Bellatrix was still the absolute number one on that list and Hermione doubted that that would change in the future.

But for now she would have to leave that behind. She would have to focus on making the public like her. She just hoped that Caesar wouldn’t ask too difficult questions. She had no idea how to really work the public. Effie had tried her best during meals to instruct her, but Hermione had usually zoned out. She just couldn’t handle yet another thing to learn. 

When she arrived at the room that Cinna had chosen to prep her in she sighed in relief. Somehow Cinna had a calming effect on her. How this gentle man could be working as a stylist for the Games was beyond her. He gave her a smile when he spotted her and Hermione found herself returning it. 

“Hello, dear,” Cinna greeted her. “How is the training coming along?”

Hermione shrugged. “I guess I know now how to set traps for animals the size of rabbits… so let’s hope that the arena we are going into has those…”

“It’s progress,” Cinna nodded encouragingly and motioned for Hermione to sit down. “Knowing how to kill other humans isn’t everything. There have been Games were people won differently. But I’m sure that Haymitch has told you all about that already.”

Hermione nodded. “Surprisingly. I didn’t think he would be helpful at all, actually… but he’s… not entirely useless.”

Cinna chuckled as he began to work on Hermione’s hair. “I was thinking about straightening it for the interviews. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Straighten these?” Hermione asked in disbelief. “I’ve tried before but I can barely get a comb through them.”

“I have my ways, dear,” Cinna smiled. “You forget my resources.” With Capitol support from the Games his current resources were pretty much limitless. 

“Well, then go ahead…” She trusted him. Not just with her outfits and makeup. 

Cinna worked diligently on her hair and makeup. And allowed her to see only when he announced that he was done. “Here we go…” he smiled and turned Hermione on her chair around so she could look into the mirror. Her makeup wasn’t exactly subtle with it’s reds and oranges but Hermione could definitely see what Cinna had been going for. “You’re still my girl on fire,” he added.

“Thank you, Cinna,” she smiled at him. It was most unusual to see her hair straight. She had imagined it before, but to actually see it was entirely different. She still had undeniably loads of hair, but it looked tamed and soft now. 

“It’ll last a while. What I did to your hair, I mean. I think this will be more manageable inside the arena,” he explained. “You can braid it and keep it out of the way.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Hermione nodded. “Thank you.”

“Now… the finishing touches…” Cinna grinned and walked over to get Hermione’s dress. “What do you think?”

It was a red dream. Hermione had never seen anything more beautiful. It was a red one shoulder dress, which was hugging all the right curves once she was in it. “I… wow, Cinna…” The people would love it. She didn’t deserve Cinna’s skills. How he wasn’t dressing the Career victors was beyond her. 

“You wear it better than I ever could have imagined. With that dress alone you will charm everyone,” Cinna smiled. 

“Thank you, Cinna…” Hermione thanked him earnestly. It did make her feel less nervous to have his support. And to look this good too.

“Now go. And blow them away, dear. And don’t forget to twirl to show off your dress,” Cinna added a bit cryptically. “I’ll show you when.”

Hermione looked mildly confused but she nodded. Cinna had proven that he knew what he was doing. And she had the fleeting suspicion that he had added another surprise. She promised to keep an eye on him during the interview so she wouldn’t miss his cue before leaving the room and their privacy. 

Immediately Hermione was ushered along the halls until she arrived where all the other victors were already waiting behind the stage. With District 1 going first Hermione and Ronald would have a long wait. The audience on the other side of the curtain would possibly be already bored and ready to move on. Hermione wasn’t looking forward to it. But then again she also wasn’t envying Bellatrix and Gloss who had to go first. Especially Gloss looked fairly glum. Bellatrix wasn’t exactly known to be a crowd warmer. People disliked her for being unpredictable and unhinged. More so than even the Capitol could appreciate since she displayed the same behavior outside of the arena. On the small monitors Hermione could already see Caesar warming up the crowd before the first tribute was to be called on stage. Gloss was first. 

The applause and cheering when Gloss went out onto the stage. He was a well loved victor, that much was clear. Polite greetings between Caesar and Gloss were exchanged, but soon enough the interview truly began. 

“You are one of our most beloved victors, Gloss. You and your sister both,” Caesar started with a wide smile. His teeth too bright to be real. But then again his hair was purple and so was his make up. Not much on this man was still natural. “We just don’t know how we are going to let you go…”

The thing Gloss said next, surprised Hermione. ‘We are not going by choice,’ she watched him say on the monitor and her mouth fell slightly open. Then Gloss turned towards the audience who actually  _ aww’ed _ . ‘You are my family. And I don’t see how anyone could love me better.’

“What is he doing?” Hermione asked with a frown when Haymitch came up beside her.

“You know none of them want to go back. Maybe Enobaria, but she’s downright psychotic. But everyone else? No. They will do everything in their power to stop the Games,” Haymitch replied and looked pointedly at Hermione. “And you should do the same.”

Hermione would certainly try, but she just didn’t quite know how she would be doing that. Her heart was already beating rapidly. She was utterly nervous. And she would just freeze. With her eyes back on the screen she watched Gloss say that he loved his sister and was glad that she was here as a mentor with him before leaving the stage.

Up next was Bellatrix. Hermione wasn’t sure but it looked like Caesar immediately sat a little straighter, looked a bit more cautious. When Bellatrix went up on stage there was no applause or cheering like there had been with Gloss. The audience was eerily silent which felt like a punch in the gut to Hermione, but Bellatrix didn’t seem to care. She was all anger and supremacy as she took a seat next to Caesar.

“Gloss has made many cry already. He was so sad,” Caesar began. “But… I don’t think that we can expect that from you, can we, Bellatrix?” Bellatrix just sneered in response. “You look angry, Bellatrix. Are you angry?”

“Of course I’m angry,” she replied with a huff.

“Why is that?” Caesar asked.

“Why?!” Bellatrix asked with a humorless laugh. “Because I am being screwed over here!”

  
“Aha,” Caesar added concomitantly.

“The deal was, I win the Hunger Games and I get to live the rest of my life in peace,” Bellatrix elaborated and it was clear in her voice how much anger she was trying to hold back inside her right now. But she was  _ this _ close to just losing it. “But now? You wanna kill me again.” She chuckled dangerously.

“And now they are taking you away from your sisters again, isn’t that right? You have two of them. Neither of them entered the Career training,” Caesar tried to steer the conversation away from blaming the Capitol. But bringing up Bellatrix’ sisters had been a terrible mistake. As skilled as an interviewer as Caesar was, though, he didn’t realize his mistake yet. 

“My sisters?” Bellatrix asked, her voice angry. “Don’t talk about my sisters.” Her voice was barely more than a hiss. 

“Narcissa and Andromeda, right? Lovely names. You’re the oldest, aren’t you? Tell me, why didn’t they become Careers too? Continue the family tradi-”

But Bellatrix didn’t let him finish. Hermione could almost see how something snapped inside her, any self control lost. “ _ Fuck you _ !” She yelled into Caesar’s face, then turned towards the audience. “Fucking fuck all of you too! Fuck everyone who had anything to do with this! Fucking us over like that!  _ Again _ !” What else Bellatrix continued to scream Hermione couldn’t say. The Capitol had given up on bleeping out the swear words. There were simply too many of them. And so they just silenced Bellatrix completely. But she was still watching the older woman screaming profanities until a squad of Peacekeepers came up on stage to force her off the stage. Hermione couldn’t help but feel sorry for the other woman. Despite being threatened and attacked by Bellatrix multiple times this interview had made it clear that even Bellatrix was a human. And that she had a family that she was clearly protective of. It seemed like she wanted to keep her family away from anything to do with the Games as possible. Something Hermione could absolutely understand. Not that Hermione had siblings, but she would hate it too if Caesar mentioned her parents during her interview.

The next interviews were definitely less dramatic. But still each and every victor managed to make it a point to say that they didn’t want this. Except both victors from two who insisted that they couldn’t wait to get back into the Games. But the other victors insisted that they didn’t want to go back. That this was unfair. And that the Capitol people had the power to save their precious victors. If only they actually wanted to. Hermione found it impressive. Somehow she had not expected that to happen. All of them had seemed to eager to train and had been so ready to kill even in the training area that Hermione had expected them to be all nonchalant about killing and returning to the arena in their interviews. She realized now how dumb this assumption had been. 

But a whole lot sooner than Hermione would have liked her own interview was coming up. 

“Just be yourself,” Cinna told her with a reassuring smile. “Keep looking at me. Pretend you’re just talking to me.”

Hermione nodded. Not that she thought that this would help at all with her nervosity. But at least she knew she would have some support in the audience. Cinna left again, so he would be in the audience in time. 

When it became clear that the District 11 victor was finishing up his interview Hermione got ushered further along so she would be in position to take the stage. With her heart beating rapidly Hermione began to walk when Caesar called her name. It felt like it took her significantly longer than it should have. Her ears were ringing and she barely even heard the applause from the people. But it was there. The audience was cheering for her. So apparently her arrival at the Capitol had left a lasting impression. Despite the presence of so many other beloved victors they still had noticed her. All thanks to Cinna. 

Caesar motioned for her to come closer and he took her hand in greeting. Hermione could see his mouth move, but her ears were ringing so badly that she couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying. When they each took their seats and Caesar expectantly looked at her, clearly waiting for some sort of reply, Hermione just helplessly stared back at him.

“Oh, I think someone is a little nervous!” He announced with a big smile towards the audience who chuckled merrily in response. Apparently no one thought less of her for this. “I said, that had been quite the entrance you made at the Tribute’s Parade the other day.” He was still smiling as he spoke. “Do you want to tell us a little about that?” 

At least this time Hermione had managed to actually understand him. And slowly, despite her nerves, her brain began to function again. Despite Caesar’s outrageous looks and the Capitol accent he just had a way of making you relax at least a little bit. She needed to make a good impression. She needed to gain their favor. Cinna had told her just to be herself, but that didn’t seem like a smart move. So what could she say? “Well, I was just trying to, well… not burn to death,” she joked weakly. The audience promptly laughed. So far so good. Although Hermione couldn’t believe that these people had the sense to laugh now of all things. She was prepared to die. And they laughed. Part of her wished that she had more courage. That she was more like Bellatrix. Then she would just yell and scream at them how unfair all of this was too. But instead Hermione focused back on Caesar as he spoke.

“I have to say… seeing you in that Chariot. In your outfit. My heart just… stopped.” He shifted his gaze towards the audience. “Did any of you experience that as well?” he asked in a manner that demanded an actual reply. And the people cheered again. Please Caesar looked back at Hermione and repeated, “my heart just stopped.”

She found that Caesar seemed almost genuine as he spoke. That man truly had a talent for this, she had to give him that. So she gave him the hint of a smile, “so did mine.” Again people laughed and Caesar too appeared to be pleased with her reply as he laughed quite heartily.

“Hermione, listen… the audience would kill me if I didn’t ask and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t ask myself… tell me, about the flames…” Caesar went on as he leaned closer as if he wanted to be let in on a secret and Hermione mirrored him. “Are they real?”

Her smile widened a little more and she nodded. “Yes.” There were ohs and ahs in the audience so she looked at them. Her gaze singled out Cinna who smiled a little and raised his index finger just a little bit. Then he made a twirling motion with it. “In fact, I’m wearing them right now.” When Cinna nodded again, Hermione went on. “Would you like to see?” The audience immediately roared their approval.

Caesar pulled a face, playing along. He truly was quite the generous host. If one ignored that he was merrily interviewing children about to be slaughtered once a year, at least. He tried to make everyone look good. No matter where they came from. “Wait! Wait! Is it safe?” he asked, his forehead wrinkled in worry.

Hermione laughed a bit and Caesar joined. “Yes, its safe.”

“Well, then, Hermione… I think the audience has already made their decision known,” Caesar laughed.

So Hermione tried to collect all the courage she could find within herself as she got up and walked a few steps closer to the edge of the stage. Then she began to twirl, like Cinna had instructed her to. She hadn’t really known what to expect but slowly the floating hem of her dress caught fire, crawling higher and higher the faster she twirled. The audience was absolutely mesmerized. There were gasps and cheers and applause. They were loving her. Or, rather, they were loving the Girl on Fire which had been created by Cinna’s genius.Even Caesar seemed amazed to see the synthetic flames up close and personal. Hermione twirled for as long as she could but needed to stop when she simply felt too dizzy. A little out of breath she almost tripped over her own feet, but a laughing Caesar steadied her and held upright. 

“Wonderful,” he laughed and helped Hermione to sit back down. 

The rest of her interview went by in a blur. Caesar did his best to make her seem likeable and approachable for which Hermione was absolutely grateful. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than usual, but it felt like it deserved its own chapter in a way. Shit is getting started. Also, comments make a writer happy :P

Hermione felt absolutely sick. Terrified, too. Effie had tried to make her eat something in the morning, but she just couldn’t. Just the sight of food had made her run into the bathroom and she had emptied whatever contents still had been inside her stomach into the toilet. Today was the day. Today Hermione would step into the arena.

The most likely scenario was that she would die. Probably on day one. Perhaps even in the first few minutes. 

Every fiber of her being was telling Hermione to run. But at the same time she felt absolutely paralyzed, too. There was no point in trying to run, anyways. There were Peacekeepers everywhere, ready to pin her by force. Yes, Hermione would enter the arena today, there was no way to escape. 

“Remember, you don’t run towards the Cornucopia,” Haymitch had instructed her before sending her off. “Yes, it’s tempting. But the risk is too great. A weapon won’t be of any use if you’re dead. You run in the opposite direction of everyone else.”

Hermione had just nodded in response, unable to speak. Haymitch was right, of course. She knew that. She wasn’t as fast as the Careers. And even if she made it to the Cornucopia alive? There was still a high chance of dying. She was no fighter. Hermione needed a different approach. As cowardly as it felt, she’d run away. And then hope that her survival training would pay off and keep her alive longer than the rest.

Right now she was downstairs inside some catacombs with Cinna. She was grateful for him. During her time in the Capitol he had become the closest thing to a friend she had here. If he was to be the last friendly face she ever saw then Cinna was a good choice. He had helped her into a skin tight suit and was now smiling at her. “I’m betting on you, girl on fire,” he told her, his voice gentle. 

It did very little to calm her nerves. 

“Be yourself,” Cinna went on. “I know you are no fighter. But the people love you.”

“They love the story that Ronald made up,” Hermione huffed. How she even managed to find her voice Hermione didn’t know. Despite her imminent almost certain death she still felt the urge to punch him in the face. About them being star crossed lovers. Him loving her from afar in District 12. And now being here in the Games with her. 

“Maybe, but that can still work in your favor, Hermione,” Cinna reminded her.

“He should have asked me. Not just pulled this stunt,” Hermione insisted. But the Capitol had been eating their tragic love story up.Which Ronald had decided to share with the world during his interview. It would surely earn them both sponsors. She shouldn’t be as angry with him as she was. But Hermione couldn’t help it. A signal sounded and Hermione visibly jumped.

“It’s time…” Cinna breathed and his hand settled on Hermione’s back to guide her towards a glass tube which would most likely transport her into the arena. “Good luck…” he added once Hermione had stepped into the tube. 

Almost immediately the entrance closed soundlessly. Hermione felt like a caged animal more than ever. A caged animal ready for slaughter. Panic began to rise inside her chest, but it was momentarily forgotten when she realized the Peacekeepers coming up behind Cinna. Hermione screamed his name, but she was pretty sure that no one was able to hear her as they hit Cinna over the head and dragged him off. Hermione found herself pounding on the glass, still screaming her voice sore, even though Cinna was long gone from her sight. 

Then suddenly the elevator began to move, raising her up. Hermione tried to wipe her cheeks, tried to blink away the tears. She had to focus somehow. Or she would die more quickly than was strictly necessary. Clearly this had been planned and set up. Someone wanted to upset her. And it had worked. But Hermione needed to get a grip on herself. 

As she neared the exit the light meeting her was blinding even more so than her own tears. Raising her arms she tried to shelter her eyes as she looked around. Water. Hermione was standing on a tiny platform surrounded by water. All the other tributes were in a very similar position as far as she was able to tell. There were tiny rocky paths leading into the center of the lake they were on. In the middle of it all was the Cornucopia. Filled to the brim with weapons, food, traps. Useful things, for sure. But Hermione couldn’t think about that. On the platform to her right was Ronald, who looked even more pale now than usual. To her left was Bellatrix. It wasn’t a comforting thought to know that the person who wanted her dead the most was also closest to her. But Hermione was counting on the fact that Bellatrix would definitely try and get to the Cornucopia. Just like everyone else would most likely try. Except for her and Ronald. Haymitch had advised them to stay together, but this wasn’t something that Hermione was willing to do. Ronald had absolutely sucked at being subtle and hiding. Hermione would have better chances alone, she was sure. She didn’t need him as an ally. 

Looking over to Bellatrix Hermione realized that the other was staring right back at her. It sent a shiver down her spine. She  _ definitely _ needed to get away from that one. Forcing her gaze away Hermione instead looked behind herself. There was no path leading towards the beach. She would have to swim. And quickly. If anyone managed to grab a bow before she had reached the jungle Hermione was an easy target. 

Before Hermione could do any more planning the countdown began. It lit up in huge numbers right above the Cornucopia, perfectly visible for all the tributes.

_ 10 _ .

Again Hermione began to feel the almost familiar panic rise inside her chest now. 

_ 9 _ .

She forced herself to take a deep breath, fighting the clawing fear trying to break free.

_ 8 _ . 

Hermione just knew that Bellatrix was looking at her again. This wasn’t good. She needed to do something to change it. But she had no idea how.

_ 7 _ .

The seconds passed both way too quickly and not at all. Ignoring Bellatrix Hermione looked ahead of the cornucopia. 

_ 6 _ .

Maybe that would fool Bellatrix and everyone else that she was going to make a run for the Cornucopia. That she was foolish and brave enough to try. 

_ 5 _ . 

Hermione looked at the numbers counting down and somehow managed to calm down. As if she had found the calm before the storm. 

_4._

The storm in their case would be a bloodbath. It always was. That first run on the Cornucopia. So many would already die.

_3._

But Hermione would run. She wanted to live. Their arena looked like a jungle. She had learned a thing or two about it in her days at the Capitol. 

_ 2. _

Hermione closed her eyes. Just for a second.

_ 1. _

She was pretty sure her heart actually stopped.

The cannon fired.

Just as she had expected, all of the victors were making a run for the weapons and other supplies. Most of them anyways. The morphlings from 6 were running too. But they were definitely slower than Hermione who had already jumped backwards into the water while he cannon fire was still ringing in her ears.

Hermione tried to remain under the surface for as long as possible, hoping that it would shield her from both view and potential weapons being thrown her way. About halfway to the beach Hermione had to resurface though. Without taking a break she continued to swim as swiftly as she could. The worst part was still about to come. Before the safety of the jungle was within reach she had to cross the open beach. Without time to actually check for the shortest route Hermione simply made her way to shore and then ran, tearing a muscle or two in her thigh. But she ignored the burning pain. 

Running towards the closest tree Hermione hid behind it. For just a second she dared to look back. Two cannon shots had been fired. And there was still a scuffle going on in the center. Apparently she had not needed to worry about Bellatrix. Since everyone else had been ganging up on her. None of the other Careers seemed to consider her a potential ally. Hermione even thought that she could see Bellatrix bleeding from her side, but she was too far away and she didn’t dare linger. Someone could have seen her disappearing into the woods and she needed to keep moving. So she tore her gaze away and disappeared further into the jungle. She headed away from the noise. There was another cannon shot. So the audience would be getting their much anticipated bloodbath. Only tonight she would learn who was actually dead. Not that it mattered much. She was alive. Somehow she had made it. 

But Hermione didn’t dare rest. So she kept pushing onwards, without any sense of direction. The air was hot and humid. Soon enough Hermione was a sweaty mess. With the jungle being rather dense that made her track not exactly easier. The worst part of it all was though, that she just didn’t come across water. Which seemed impossible. But then again, this was an artificial arena and if the Gamemaker didn’t want them to have water? They wouldn’t have water. 

Hermione kept going for as long as possible, but when the jungle began to get darker and even more difficult to navigate, she decided that she needed to take up shelter for the night. Although it would mean no water for the entire night either, Hermione climbed one of the bigger trees. Her muscles were protesting from the effort of pulling her own weight after walking for hours, but Hermione managed. 

Feeling exhausted, scared and alone Hermione settled on one of the big branches, her back leaning against the trunk. Hopefully no one would look for her up here. She needed sleep. At least a little. Right now her body needed rest even more urgently than water. Closing her eyes Hermione fell asleep almost immediately. 

\--- --- ---


End file.
